


present perfect

by stormhund



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Comfort, Exes to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27117910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormhund/pseuds/stormhund
Summary: This time, there is no more mirth in his gaze, only the wish of something he hopes would come true. “Can we just...start over?”Kita does not back down. “With your question? Or with what’s between us?”Atsumu does not hesitate. “Both.”–in which kita decides to give the past another chance.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 42
Kudos: 146





	1. present continuous

**Author's Note:**

> for louise, whose [atsukita filipino socmed au](https://twitter.com/preskita/status/1314868683525685250) finally made me fall for atsukita once and for all.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atsumu grins, tainting his innocent expression with one of pride. “Well. I had to improvise. I _am_ asking you out, after all.”

When Kita Shinsuke rolled out of bed this morning, he expected nothing out of the ordinary.

He expected to begin his preparations in the kitchen, where he cooked a hearty breakfast for both himself and obaa-chan. He expected to slide the yukimi shoji doors open and settle in the engawa for several minutes, watching the sunrise bloom on the horizon. He expected to tend to the garden at the back of the house, making sure they’re well-watered and well-groomed.

For today, he even expected to drop some of his work in favor of entertaining a certain guest. It may be a break from his usual routine of constantly working the fields from morning to evening, but it was something he had already foreseen and taken care of.

What he did not expect, however, was that his guest would turn out to be two individuals instead of one.

“Shin-chan,” croons his grandmother now as she appears by the kitchen. “Osamu-kun is already here.”

“He is a little early,” remarks Kita, scooping several cups of rice into the pan. It is not uncommon for Osamu to pay a visit to their farm, and on some days he stays a little longer than necessary in order to solicit Kita’s opinions on some new recipes. Today is the latter, and even for Osamu’s standards, he manages to arrive a full hour earlier than his usual.

“I think Atsumu-kun is also with him,” his grandmother continues. “You didn’t tell me that both the twins are coming today! I would have prepared more snacks.”

At this, Kita falters in his task. _Atsumu is here,_ he thinks to himself, more than a little horrified. Why _is he here?_

He looks up with a frown. “Are you sure it’s him?”

Kita’s grandmother is already turning away, laughing as she goes. “I may be old, Shin-chan, but I am not beyond telling the twins apart.”

Kita sets his rice pan down before wiping his hands on a fresh towel. He flings it over his shoulder and follows her out, both of them crossing the interior of their home until they are standing by the genkan. Kita slides the screen doors open, letting in the golden morning light, the sweet scent of the countryside, and the melodic twittering of the birds.

Before him, parked on the narrow gravel driveway, is Osamu’s truck. He glimpses its owner first, the dark-haired man already hauling a box of ingredients from the back of his vehicle. Standing before him, with his back to the house, is Atsumu. He leans against the edge of the truck, drawling lazily as he watches his brother haul everything out without offering any of his help.

“So _this_ is Kita’s farm.” Atsumu whistles, glancing around. “It’s very–”

Kita leans against his own doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. “Very...?” Kita cannot help but cut in.

His words are its own kind of magic. Atsumu immediately lapses into silence as Osamu looks up. His startled expression softens into one of familiarity, and he calls out, “Good morning, Kita-san! Obaa-chan!”

Kita offers him a small wave as his grandmother brushes past him, calling out the twins’ name in a warm welcome. But Kita is still looking at Atsumu, who has yet to move since he had cut him off mid-sentence. He does not miss the unmistakable stiffening of Atsumu’s shoulders right before they melt with a loud exhale. He does not miss the slow spin upon his heel, tentative and uncertain, as if he is delaying the moment their eyes meet.

Luckily for him, Kita feels the same. Before he can even glimpse the bridge of Atsumu’s nose, he turns and pads back inside his home.

It’s been three years since he saw Miya Atsumu in the flesh. Despite the stretch of time, he doesn’t think he is ready to see him yet. He doesn’t think he ever will be, especially not after the way things had ended between the both of them.

Kita busies himself with preparing the kotatsu, arranging it just so, as his grandmother chats with their guests outside. He stands up just as Osamu clears the doorway, grunting with the weight in his arms. When their eyes meet, Osamu’s brows draw together and he tilts his head. “You didn’t get my text?”

Kita’s hands immediately fly to his back pocket. He checks his phone and finds several messages from Osamu, one of which warns him that he will be bringing Atsumu in tow. “Ah.”

Osamu purses his lips, his expression apologetic. He opens his mouth to say more, but their conversation is disrupted by soft footsteps by the genkan. “Shin-chan, why don’t you help Atsumu-kun?” begins his grandmother. “I think there are several more things that need unloading in the back of the truck.”

Kita does not hesitate, even as everything in him is telling him to slow down. “Yes, obaa-chan.”

He is already moving towards the doorway when Atsumu comes up to it, fingers curled over several bags of plastic. Kita pauses, and Atsumu does the same. Neither of them move as they stare at each other silently, with nothing but the open doorway separating the both of them.

“Atsumu,” Kita finally greets. It is all he can afford to say.

“Kita-san,” he replies smoothly, easily, so at odds with the stiff way he carries himself. He swallows and dips his head. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“It is nice to see you too,” Kita finds himself confessing. It _is_ the truth after all, as all things that pass through his lips. He gestures to the bags in his hands. “Do you need my help?”

“Na. I got these.”

Kita nods. He does not repeat his question. “Please come in.”

“Lovely, by the way,” says Atsumu.

Kita raises his brows. “I’m sorry?”

“Your farm,” explains Atsumu, glancing around as if he could encompass the space of his home with his look alone. “That’s what I meant to say earlier. Your farm is very lovely.”

Atsumu finally closes the distance between them, and Kita moves aside just before they touch. This close, Kita can detect the subtle but unmistakable scent of cologne over Atsumu’s chest. He angles his head away, and the gesture is not lost on Atsumu.

“Do I smell that bad, Kita-san?” he teases, recovering some of his confidence.

“You are overwhelming.”

“In a good way or in a bad way?”

Kita glares at Atsumu, and Atsumu shrinks in on himself. Kita moves away, delving back deeper into the house until he finds his solace back in the kitchen. Osamu, who has been unloading several ingredients on the counter, frowns. He leans against the kitchen archway and calls out, “Oy, ’Tsumu. What’d you say to Kita-san?”

“I was just trying to find out if he thinks I smell bad!” Kita hears Atsumu retort.

“My god,” groans Osamu.

Kita almost returns back out, opting instead to play the courteous host instead of the insulted friend. But when he hears his grandmother entertaining Atsumu and Atsumu speaking to her in turn, he decides that it may be better to stay in the kitchen. He takes up his rice pan and begins rinsing the rice within.

“You good?” asks Osamu, after several beats of silence.

“I’m okay,” reassures Kita.

Osamu nods, flourishing several pieces of onion and garlic. “Sorry. I should have called to make sure you knew.”

“It’s no big deal.” Kita shrugs. “It _is_ nice to see the both of you again.”

Osamu nods again before sliding the chopping board and knife towards him. “I can always kick him out.”

“It’s fine, Osamu.”

“Okay. But the offer stands.”

The two of them immerse themselves in their own work. Except when Kita realizes that he’s been stirring the rice with his hands for two minutes, he abandons his task momentarily and begins heating a pot of tea for his guests. Then he resumes his work by the sink, willing his thoughts to stay still.

Except, they wouldn’t.

When Kita finally musters the courage to voice them out, he keeps his eyes trained on his hands. “But I have a question.”

He doesn’t have to look up to know that Osamu is staring at him, his weighted gaze foretelling that he already knew what he was going to say. Still, Osamu indulges him. “Shoot.”

Kita’s hands continue rinsing the grains of rice. He dumps the murky water into the sink before filling up the pan once more. “Why is Atsumu here?”

Osamu continues chopping the garlic across the cutting board, the steady metal of the knife against the firm wooden plane a welcome beat that helps steady Kita. “He wanted to come with,” he says after a while. “He misses you too, you know. In more ways than one.”

“Are you trying to play matchmaker?” This time, Kita glances up.

Osamu withers beneath his stare. “Absolutely not! What my brother does with his own feelings is none of my concern.”

“Hmm.” Kita finishes washing the rice and sets it to stew in the rice cooker. He wipes his hands against the towel over his shoulder. “Yet you indulge him with a trip here.”

Osamu shrugs and flashes Kita a sheepish grin. “What he does with his feelings may not be my responsibility. But what he feels is still my concern.”

Kita places the pot of tea he had boiled into a tray, along with several other tea cups. “Careful.” He takes the tray between his hands. “His head is already big enough as it is.”

Osamu’s snort trails Kita on the way out of the kitchen, and Kita almost smiles until he glimpses Atsumu and his grandmother sitting before the kotatsu. They have their backs to him, both of them hunched over in shared laughter, and Kita pauses to take in the rare sight of them together. Atsumu repeats the punchline of his joke, and obaa-chan throws her head back in renewed glee.

It is a tender sight, a beautiful picture of purity and goodness untouched by none of Atsumu’s sarcasm or Osamu’s quips or Kita’s sternness.

And yet it hurts to see it.

Kita deliberately slides two cups together, announcing his presence with the clink of porcelain. Both Atsumu and obaa-chan lean back, glancing over their shoulders. The twinkle in his grandmother’s eyes continue to shine as she beckons him over, giggling in delight about how she adores Atsumu and how much he’s grown and how she missed him.

“You are too sweet, obaa-chan,” gushes Atsumu as Kita places their refreshments across the kotatsu. “Glad to hear that at least one of you missed me.”

Kita glances up and meets Atsumu’s stare head on. Obaa-chan clicks her tongue and waves a hand. “Nonsense! Shinsuke misses you just as dearly. Don’t you, Shin-chan?”

“Every now and then,” admits Kita. He watches Atsumu’s eyes widen a fraction before the pro volleyball player looks away, a tortured expression coming and going in the span of a heartbeat.

“‘Every now and then’,” snorts his grandmother. She takes the pot of tea and begins pouring some for Atsumu. “He makes sure to watch all your games, you know. For the ones he misses, he makes sure to play it back or catch a rerun.”

“Does he, now?” Atsumu thanks her for the tea before bringing it to his lips. Although his tone remains amused, he does not look towards Kita’s direction again.

“Obaa-chan.” Kita does not know what he’s begging for, only that he is. In this, he feels as awkward as Atsumu looks.

Kita’s grandmother blinks at the both of them, her confusion and eventual realization evident in her round face. She begins to get up from her seat, Kita already rising to help her up, but she shakes her head. “Oh, if you could excuse me. I’m going to go check on Osamu-kun.”

“I can do it,” answer Kita and Atsumu at the same time.

“You rarely see each other as it is!” She pads away to the kitchen, offering them her kindest smiles. “I’ll leave the both of you to catch up for a bit.”

Both Kita and Atsumu watch her walk away. Before Atsumu can turn back to direct his attention to him, Kita ducks his head, pouring himself tea and sipping from his cup slowly. Atsumu shifts in his seat and does the same, and for several minutes the room is filled with nothing but the quiet sounds of their drinking.

Kita closes his eyes. He can do this. There is no reason to be so unfamiliar around Atsumu, not when they were bound by many years of friendship.

When he replaces his cup back down, Atsumu is already watching him. He meets his eyes, and the blonde setter immediately requests, “Can I see the rest of your farm?”

Kita raises his brows. It’s an odd request, sure, but it’s hardly the first time Atsumu has said something a little strange. “Which part of the farm?”

Atsumu rubs the back of his neck, the gesture so meek for someone of his broad stature. “All of it, I guess.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are _you?_ ”

Kita tilts his head. “You might trample on some of the grains.”

“True,” admits Atsumu with a soft laugh. “But, you know, I’m not the careless boy I was before.”

Kita knows him well enough to understand the gravity of that confession. “Maybe so.” He stands and nods towards the direction of the engawa. “Come. I’ll show you around.”

He hears Atsumu sputtering behind him, hears his moment’s hesitation and incredulous protests. Then he hears the soft footsteps following him out, towards where their house opened up into a small strip of gravel and stone before welcoming in the square plot of a garden bordered on the edge by several trees. Kita waits for Atsumu to catch up before gesturing towards the bushes and stems blooming with every shade of color from a variety of floras.

“This is the garden,” says Kita. “Obaa-chan tends to them most of the time, but I also take care of them before heading out to the fields.”

“Pretty,” says Atsumu, running his fingers on the underside of a budding tulip. “The works of your hands have always been blessed, Kita-san.”

“It’s all hard work,” says Kita simply. “As all things require.”

Atsumu is the taller of the two of them, yet it is he who looks up at Kita now. “Of course.”

Kita frowns before turning on his heel, leading them through the path of the blooms. They come upon the edge of the garden, where a set of wooden fences mark the end of one thing and the beginning of another. Before them, stretching out nearly as far as the eye can see all and around them, are his rice fields. Kita gazes upon them, pride swelling in his chest. He looks to Atsumu, his stories of toil and reward already on the tip of his tongue, but he quiets upon seeing the amazed look on his face.

“These are all yours,” Atsumu breathes. He stares at the fields with unabashed awe.

“Yes.”

“They’re amazing.”

“Thank you.”

Both of them lapse into a still trance, their eyes trained on the fields. In this light, just as the day nears noon, the water among his crops reflects the deep sapphire of the sky. They are rectangular mirrors of the heavens disturbed only by the gentle stirring of the wind or of the bugs that glide across the water’s surface.

It is beautiful. It is glorious. It is everything Kita wants.

And with Atsumu by his side, it is almost perfect.

Kita blinks. Then he crosses his arms over his chest and exhales.

But there is no room for a Miya Atsumu in his heart.

Once he had opened the doors to his soul and allowed him in. Once he had let down his walls and caved in to vulnerability. But he found himself cruelly shut out from Atsumu’s, left in the cold and alone with the pieces of his affection.

It has been very quiet since. It is sometimes lonely, sure, but it is also its own kind of peace.

“Atsumu,” begins Kita, his name a sigh.

But at that exact moment, Atsumu also blurts, a little nervously, “Kita-san.”

Kita turns to him, a little surprised–and stops. Atsumu has a white tulip tucked between his fingers, the flora thrust out before him as a humble offering for Kita.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Kita-san.” Atsumu bites down on his bottom lip before he adds in one rush, “Kita Shinsuke, will you go on a date with me?”

Kita blinks at him, unsure of what is currently capturing his attention more: Atsumu’s face, open and full of hope, or the tulip in his hands, still small and barely budding. His thoughts are running at a hundred miles per hour, and all of them were strings of incoherency and incredulity. He settles on the flower, the one tangible thing to ground all other abstract emotions, and pointed at the stem obviously freshly plucked. “Did you pick that from my garden?”

Atsumu grins, tainting his innocent expression with one of pride. “Well. I had to improvise. I _am_ asking you out, after all.”

Having confirmed his suspicions, Kita frowns. “Atsumu.”

“Are you impressed?”

“Atsumu,” he repeats, more sternly this time. “Those flowers are not yet in full bloom.”

Atsumu’s hands drop as his eyes turn to the flower in his hand. “Oh. Shit.”

“And,” continues Kita, crossing his arms over his chest, “those flowers are for obaa-chan’s birthday.”

“All of them?” retorts Atsumu incredulously. “Are you sure?”

“Does it look like I don’t know what I’m doing or when my grandmother’s birthday is?”

Atsumu cringes. “No!”

Kita narrows his eyes. “No? No, it doesn’t look like I know what I’m doing?”

“Kita-san.” Atsumu reaches out and brushes his fingers over Kita’s arm. “Shinsuke. Please.”

Kita sucks in a sharp breath, tensing beneath Atsumu’s touch and his use of his first name. Atsumu senses his discomfort and takes half a step back. This time, there is no more mirth in his gaze, only the wish of something he hopes would come true. “Can we just...start over?”

Kita does not back down. “With your question? Or with what’s between us?”

Atsumu does not hesitate. “Both.”

This time, when Kita appraises him, he does not see the layer of resentment he harbors over what happened between them many years ago. He does not see the veil of hurt he still keeps hidden beneath the folds of his heart. Instead, he sees Atsumu as he is now: a man asking for a second chance.

And Kita may have claimed not to have enough room for second chances, but he is not infallible either.

He turns his head, watching his field undulate with the breeze, its grassy stalks sun-touched with daylight. “Okay.”

Atsumu does not respond at first. Then he exclaims, “ _‘Okay’?_ ”

Kita almost rolls his eyes. “Why are you so surprised?”

“I thought I’d have to put up more of a fight.”

Kita raises a brow. “I agreed to one date, Atsumu.” He turns and begins walking back to the house. “You’ll have to earn the rest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **UPDATE:** present perfect [has fanart](https://twitter.com/autumnsolace_/status/1329255944350437377) of this chaper. ;___; brb i'm still crying over how beautiful and perfect it is.
> 
> i can't believe i'm doing this whole multi-chaptered fic thing all over again! let's goooo!
> 
> many thanks to christine (ao3 user protagonists) for being the first to read the whole outline, for beta-reading this chapter, and for always giving me the confidence in what i do.
> 
> many thanks also to louise for looking through the outline and being my fellow #1 atskt supporter.
> 
> and many thanks to moon (ao3 user entremelement) for looking through the first chapter and brainstorming with me.
> 
> <3


	2. before

BEFORE

* * *

The first time Kita had an inkling for Atsumu’s feelings was back when he was a second year student and the latter was a first year.

The team had just finished the last of their drills and were gearing up to perform their stretching exercises. Kita himself had just finished draining the last of his water bottle, the back of his hand sliding over the corner of his lips to catch the water dribbling down his chin, when Osamu walked up to him.

“Kita-san.” Despite his sober demeanor, there was an undercurrent of nervousness to his stance.

Kita lowered the bottle in his hand. “What is it?”

Osamu swallowed, chest puffing as he declared, “My brother has a crush on you.”

Kita raised his brows. He had expected Osamu to ask him something related to volleyball at the very least and something related to their academics at the most. He glanced over his junior’s shoulder, spotting Atsumu already running towards them with a furious and panicked expression.

“Is that so?” Kita turned away, picking up his towel and wiping his face with it. “As long as he doesn’t let his feelings get in the way of his game, then it’s fine by me.”

When he looked up again, both the twins were mere inches apart and wearing identical expressions of shock. Kita turned away once he was certain that they had nothing more to say. He had barely put several steps between them when he heard Atsumu exclaim, “ _That’s it?_ That’s all he has to say?”

“Were you expecting to get rejected outright?” retorted Osamu.

“God, no. But why am I even more attracted to him now?”

“What is wrong with you?”

Second year Kita Shinsuke never considered Miya Atsumu to be a funny guy. His jokes were subpar on his best days and embarrassing on his worst.

But at that moment, Kita stared at the toes of his shoes and smiled to himself.

✧

Miya Atsumu may not be well-versed in humor, but he was a man of his word.

Now that his crush on Kita had been laid bare in the open, Atsumu no longer bothered with being subtle about his advances. Sometimes when Kita was required to push the volleyball cart, Atsumu would offer to do it for him. (Kita would wave him off every time.) Sometimes when Kita looked a little sore and worse from a grueling practice, Atsumu would offer to buy him boba tea on the way home. (Kita would decline, but Atsumu would buy him a drink anyway, which Kita had no other choice but to accept.) And sometimes, Atsumu would ask Kita for help with his math homework, sitting closely next to him while he handed Kita his booklet of notes. (Kita would accept because there was no point rejecting a necessary request.)

Yet Atsumu never wavered in his game. The whole of Inarizaki watched him push himself to the limits, only to break it time and time again. They watched him tear himself apart only to build himself back up ten times better. They watched him receive praises and accolades and invitations to exclusive camps.

“How does it feel to have a rising star pine after you?” Aran teased him one day as they braved the summer morning, their backs already rolling with sweat as they walked to another day’s worth of practice. It had been almost a year since Osamu’s sudden confession, and they were only a few days shy of their third year in Inarizaki. “He may be a monster on the court, but he’s just a puppy chasing after you.”

Kita shrugged. “It doesn’t feel like anything. It is what it is.”

“Come on.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Are you not endeared by him? Even a little? Don’t you like puppies?”

“I like puppies just fine,” countered Kita. “But Atsumu is not a puppy.”

“You haven’t answered my two other questions,” Aran pointed out. Then he sucked in a deep breath, overexaggerating a gasp. “You _do_ like him a little bit!”

“And if I do?” Kita challenged. “It’s not a big deal. I’d tell him if he asked.”

“Scary. You’re so scary, Kita,” Aran shuddered. “What if today will be the day he finally asks you out?”

“Then I’ll say yes.”

Kita didn’t bother with religion nor did he bother with indulging the gods. It never mattered to him either way, whether or not they existed. But when Aran’s words proved to ring true later that day, Kita’s first thought was that maybe there really were some higher beings out there, listening to the voices of the world and spinning everything into threads of irony.

Both he and Atsumu were assigned to clean the floors after practice that day, and both of them had just retrieved the mops from the stock room when Atsumu reached out and touched Kita’s shoulder.

“Kita-san?”

Kita stopped. “Do you need a new mop?”

Atsumu wrinkled his nose. “Why would that be the first thing you’d think of? No, I don’t need a new mop.”

“Then what is it?”

Atsumu bit his bottom lip. “Would you–” His fingers flexed and extended over the shaft of his mop. For the first time in a long time, Atsumu’s confidence was watered down to something more humble. “Would you–I don’t know–would you like to go on a date with me? This weekend? This Saturday?”

_The deities are omnipresent, you know?_ came the voice of his obaa-chan. He thought about the existence of gods once more and had a fleeting moment of questioning them, wondering whether they had eavesdropped over his and Aran’s earlier conversation.

Kita tilted his head to the side. “Sure,” he replied without an ounce of hesitation. After all, Kita was also a man of his word, gods or no gods.

Atsumu stared at Kita. Then he nodded slowly, the careful gesture growing excited. “Okay. Okay. That’s nice. That’s very, very nice.”

Instead of turning away, Kita turned to the blonde boy before him. “Atsumu.”

“Yeah?”

“You know if you asked me if I liked you too, I’d answer you honestly, right?”

“Of course I know that.” Atsumu shifted on his feet, turning red. “But that’s exactly what’s stopping me from asking. I know whatever you say will be the truth. And I’m not ready to hear it yet. I might die.”

“You won’t die, Atsumu.” Kita finally walked away, but not before he added, “I won’t let you, not until we’ve had our first date together.”

Atsumu choked afterwards.

✧

Kita and Atsumu had agreed to meet by Inarizaki’s gate on a Saturday morning, just two hours shy of noon. But when Kita had inquired what Atsumu had up his sleeves, Atsumu had simply winked and told him it was a surprise.

“Are you only saying that because you have nothing planned yet?” Kita had asked him when they were gliding across the court, mops in hands.

“I’m not that irresponsible!” objected Atsumu.

While Kita had believed him about having the date already ironed out, Atsumu quickly proved that the responsible side of him only tended to that aspect. When Saturday morning rolled around, Kita found himself waiting by the gate, alone with nothing but the summer breeze kicking up the sleeves of his shirt. He was about to send Atsumu a text, asking him where he was, when he heard someone call his name.

“Kita-san!”

Kita turned, squinting his eyes towards the end of the road. The same wind carried Atsumu’s voice to where he was, and he watched as the blonde boy waved at him from afar before speeding up his pace.

“Atsumu,” greeted Kita as Atsumu panted before him. “You’re late by fifteen minutes.”

“I know, I know,” he wheezed, his hands on his knees as he attempted to catch his breath. He flicked the corner of his jacket, a deep red cloth zipped up to the base of his neck. “’Samu fought me for this jacket.”

Kita remained unfazed. “Isn’t that Osamu’s in the first place? And why are you wearing a jacket in this weather?”

Atsumu made a face. “ _Anyways._ ” He straightened, his grin sliding easily into place. “Doesn’t matter whose this is or why I’m wearing it. What matters is: what would you like to do first? Do you wanna grab something to eat now or do you wanna know my surprise already?”

Kita stared at Atsumu, deliberating. “The surprise is fine,” he chose.

Atsumu beamed. “Excellent,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Okay, then. Follow me!” 

Kita raised his brows when Atsumu reached for his hand, their fingers threading together without much resistance. Atsumu tugged them forward, his excitement evident in the tense set of his shoulders and childlike grin. But when he glanced at Kita, he must have realized what he had done, and his eyes dropped to where their hands were joined. Atsumu slowed down, expression turning mortified. “Oh, god. I’m sorry, Kita-san!” he said, already letting go.

But Kita only held on tighter, fingers squeezing Atsumu’s hand until he was certain Atsumu wouldn’t let go. He looked up at his agape expression, watching Atsumu’s mouth open and close like a fish out of water. “Close your mouth, Atsumu. We’re just two boys holding hands on a date. It’s nothing scandalous.”

“R-right,” stammered Atsumu. He adjusted his grip on Kita, his shock waning to something softer, something shy, something true. “Okay. I mean. If this is what you want.”

“I wouldn’t do something I don’t like,” responded Kita simply.

Atsumu nodded, and the two settled into an easy pace as they left Inarizaki behind. They were silent for a while, and Kita had just gotten used to their quiet when Atsumu cleared his throat.

“So,” he began, raising one brow. “You wanted to go on this date, huh?”

For the first time, Kita could feel the back of his neck blush. He attempted to dispel the heat with a shrug. “Why do you think I said yes? Besides, it’s harmless.”

“Don’t you know that when two people go on a date it means they like each other?”

“Are you mansplaining to me what a date is?”

Atsumu didn’t seem deterred. He simply winked. “Only teasing.”

Kita sniffed and looked on straight ahead. “So does this mean you like me?”

“I thought we had that established already.”

“How much do you like me then?”

He didn’t need to look at Atsumu to know that he was once again reduced to a stuttering mess. “Kita-san!” whined Atsumu.

When a smile threatened to break Kita’s stoic demeanor, he did not stop it. “Only teasing.”

✧

Atsumu succeeded in one thing: Kita _was_ surprised.

He was surprised at how cliché and predictable Atsumu turned out to be.

When Atsumu had led them to the nearest mall, Kita’s small hand still in Atsumu’s large one, he already had his suspicions. Now they slowed to a stop before the theaters, its ticket booth already boasting of a small queue even this early in the morning.

“Was this your idea?” piped up Kita as they stared at the catalogue of movies for showing. He peeled away from Atsumu to inspect each of the framed posters.

Atsumu wrinkled his nose and trailed after him. “That bad, huh? Damn.”

Kita couldn’t help but laugh. “As far as first dates go, this one plays exactly by the book.”

Atsumu’s pout softened. “At least I made you laugh.”

“Don’t wear your predictability like a badge of honor.”

“Hey! You don’t have to be so blunt!”

Kita ignored him, choosing instead to gesture at the posters. “Am I going to pick or do you already have one in mind?”

“You can pick.” Atsumu leaned forward and pointed towards the poster before him. “But my bet is on this one.”

Kita raised a brow, appraising the dark blue motif of the advertisement. “A horror movie.”

Atsumu winked. “What do you think? The reviews online say it’s pretty good.”

As if Kita had any say once Atsumu had set his mind on something. “Fine.”

Atsumu’s grin widened, and Kita thought it wasn’t so bad to let Atsumu have his way every once in a while, especially when he looked this overjoyed.

The two of them got their tickets for the next showing before heading to grab some snacks. Kita settled for a boba drink while Atsumu chose a big cup of iced tea. When they settled into their seats, Atsumu immediately lifted the armrest dividing between them.

“What?” asked Atsumu innocently when Kita casted him a dubious look.

“You’re not very subtle.”

“I’m not trying to be. What I _am_ trying to do is create my own opportunity.” Atsumu sipped on his drink and winked.

Kita rolled his eyes, sipping on his own drink and chewing the pearls in his mouth.

As soon as the introductions began and the opening scenes flashed to life, Kita sensed Atsumu shift beside him. The blonde boy yawned, stretching his arms over his head. Then he rested one arm over on the back of Kita’s seat, the clothing of his sleeves brushing Kita’s nape, and inched a little closer.

“Atsumu.” Despite Kita’s stern whisper, he couldn’t deny the quickening of his pulse.

“Just playing by the book, Kita-san.” Atsumu angled his head so that his lips were right by Kita’s ear. “Maybe you should too.”

Kita ignored him as the story began to play out on the screen, the ominous soundtrack already filling the space of the theater. Still, Kita did not pull away nor did he push Atsumu’s advances.

To Atsumu’s credit, the movie proved to be engrossing and entertaining. Kita had expected Atsumu to be a mess of nerves, but Atsumu only flinched once or twice. Whereas everyone around them gasped and squeaked with fear, the two of them remained silent and still.

Halfway through the movie, Kita was about to reach for his boba tea when he realized that to do so was to peel away from Atsumu’s warmth. He frowned, processing the fact that his side was now pressed snuggly against Atsumu’s chest.

When did they get so close to one another?

Kita reached for his drink, taking several sips. He chewed the pearls in his mouth, deliberating. Then he sat back and allowed himself to fall against Atsumu once more.

Right where Atsumu’s chin met the crown of his head, Kita felt Atsumu smile.

They spent the remaining hour of the movie snuggled together, neither quite acknowledging the space between them or the lack thereof. For the most part, Kita was able to focus on the movie rather than the boy beside him, but every time one of them shifted, he would be reminded all over again of their proximity.

At the resolution of the movie, Kita pulled away and attempted to collect himself. He took his boba tea and drank gulpfuls of it, hoping its coolness would extinguish the heat on his face. When the credits rolled around and the lights came back on, he turned to Atsumu.

Atsumu stared back at him, oddly at a loss for words. Kita chewed on the pearls in his mouth, watching the rest of the audience rise to their feet. “We should go.”

“Yeah.” Atsumu withdrew his arm to himself as he stood. When Kita stood with him, he remarked, “What a shame. I was hoping you’d get a little more scared with the movie.”

“It wasn’t even scary, though.”

Atsumu wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, you’re right. It wasn’t scary at all.”

Both of them filed their way towards the exit, the uncertain spell over them not quite alleviating from their shoulders. As they cleared the theater doors, Kita’s hands still preoccupied with his unfinished drink, Atsumu bumped his shoulder against his. “Hey.”

Kita looked at him. For once, it was he who felt a little nervous. There was something tender in the way Atsumu spoke, and they were quickly creeping upon uncharted territory. “Hey.”

They walked for several meters, dodging the crowd and eluding excited tourists that buzzed in groups. Atsumu appeared like he was trying to reach for Kita’s hand before he realized that it was unavailable for holding. “Well. Since I asked you out on a date, does this mean we’re...dating?”

Kita raised his brows, a little perplexed. “Atsumu, are you having a hard time in your language classes?”

Atsumu narrowed his eyes at him, making a face. “No? No! Wait, that’s not what I meant! I know that going on a date means that we _are_ dating, but….” Atsumu ran his fingers through his hair, tousling the gold locks across his eyes before combing them back to perfection. “Are we a thing now?”

Kita could feel himself blushing, and he had no way of concealing it. “Do you want us to be?” It was the first time he ever sounded so meek.

“Kinda, yeah.” Atsumu stopped walking, and Kita did the same. When he reached for Kita’s hand, Kita made room and allowed him to hold it. “I kinda really want us to be.”

“Kinda or really?” Kita tilted his head to the side. “What’s it going to be?”

Atsumu’s tentative bearing shifted into one of mischievous knowing. “Now you’re just playing with me.”

Kita smiled. He rubbed his thumb over Atsumu’s hand in soothing circles as he answered, “Okay. Then that’s what we’ll be.”

Atsumu grinned. He lifted his free arm in the air and cheered. “God! Best day of my life! I’m now Kita-san’s boyfriend!”

“Atsumu.”

He immediately quieted down. “Sorry. Too loud?”

“You _were_ too loud.” Kita continued rubbing his thumb over Atsumu’s hand, drawing both of their gazes down to where their skin touched. “But what I meant to say is: if we’re going to be dating from now on, you may call me Shinsuke.”

“Hmm.” Atsumu tapped his chin with one finger. “Shinsuke,” he tried. “Shinsuke.”

“You don’t need to say it twice.”

“Shinsuke,” repeated Atsumu. “Ask me again how much I like you.”

“Oh.” Kita coughed the roughness of his throat away. “How much do you like me?”

“Enough to ask you on a date.” He squeezed Kita’s hand, smiling. “Enough to endure being made fun of for being predictable. Enough to declare to everyone here that it’s now you and me, exclusively.”

“That’s quite a lot already,” Kita pointed out.

“But not enough just yet.” Atsumu tapped his nose and tugged them forward to resume their walk. Kita refrained from saying anything more, lest Atsumu hears his voice break for the first time from all the tenderness overflowing within him.


	3. present perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He says nothing as they walk side by side, towards the theater’s section of the building.
> 
> It is only when they stop before the rows of posters does Kita comment on it. “We have done this before.”

Kita appraises his reflection in the mirror, his fingers working on the creases of his button-down polo. He attempts to style his hair into something other than what it is, but he quickly settles back to arranging his fringes to its usual side.

This is the part he dislikes the most, he thinks. It is the hours, minutes, and seconds leading up to the date, the time spent dressing and wondering if he is presentable enough for the occasion. He almost wishes Atsumu would arrive already. At least then he would be spared from the agony of perusing his appearance again and again.

He almost laughs to himself, wondering why he even attempts to be well-dressed. This is just a date. One date and nothing more, and he isn’t obliged to go on another one after this.

A week ago, after Atsumu had asked him out and Kita had accepted, they’d returned back to Kita’s abode as if nothing had happened. And, because Kita’s skills in cooking are subpar at best, he’d left the food preparation to his obaa-chan and Osamu, leaving him no choice but to keep Atsumu company.

“What have you been up to these past three years?” asked Atsumu as they’d reclaimed their place by the kotatsu. “Apart from farmwork and watching reruns of my games, of course.”

Kita had poured more tea between themselves. “Sometimes I see Aran or Suna. They drop by once in a while, and we head out to the city to catch up. Omimi and Akagi also visit once a month.” He’d slid Atsumu’s teacup across the surface.

Atsumu had caught it with his hand, and he’d gently sloshed the liquid inside. “It almost sounds like you wished I’d dropped by too.”

“Of course I did.” Despite the summer heat, Kita had warmed his hands around the ceramic cup. “Osamu is a frequent visitor. It made sense to have you there with him at least once.”

Kita had sipped his tea, but Atsumu had continued stirring his cup absentmindedly. “If I knew you were looking for me, I would’ve come sooner.”

“Would you?” Kita’s words were always true and genuine, but there was an icy bite to his response. He’d poured himself more tea to quelch the coldness of his demeanor. “But enough about me. How is playing for the Black Jackals?”

Atsumu had looked like he wanted to say more, to steer the topic of their conversation back to the tension that bound them. But he’d rolled his shoulders, slumped back into a more relaxed posture, and allowed Kita to change the subject.

In the time since the twins’ last visit, Atsumu had acquired Kita’s number, and the two had conversed to finalize the plans for their first date. When Kita had asked what Atsumu had in mind, Atsumu had simply replied with, “surprise (⌒‿⌒)”.

It had given Kita a sense of déjà vu.

Even now, as Kita stares at himself in the mirror, he feels like he has already lived this out before.

He hears gentle footsteps approaching before he hears the knock upon his ajar bathroom door. His obaa-chan appears behind his reflection, her wrinkled smile ever reassuring and ever concerned. “Shin-chan? Is everything okay?”

“Obaa-chan.” Kita turns to face her, leaning back against the sink. “How do I look?”

His grandmother smiles as she enters. She reaches up and begins adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Perfect, as always.” When Kita does not respond, she glances at him. “You’re nervous.”

“I am,” admits Kita.

“It’s been a while.”

“It has.”

She finishes smoothing out the last of Kita’s wrinkles and steps back. “And it’s still with Atsumu-kun, yes? I still remember the first time you brought him home as your lover.”

Kita raises his brows, following her on the way out. “Obaa-chan, you’re so sentimental.”

“Me?” She looks over her shoulder, grinning. “I’m not the one going on a date with my ex!”

Kita purses his lips. Back in high school, he was known for being blunt and straight to the point. He supposes it runs in the family, given that his obaa-chan took no liberty in concealing her truth either.

Thankfully, Kita is spared from having to reply when he hears a vehicle pull up outside of their driveway. Obaa-chan turns to the sound as well, and she squeals in delight. “Oh, he is _early._ ”

Kita laughs. “It almost sounds like you’re the one going with him.”

“Why not? I’m not blind. I can see how handsome Atsumu-kun has grown to be!”

Kita gathers the little backpack by the kotatsu, ensuring all of his necessities are within the bag. Obaa-chan slides their door open, her voice rising as she confirms Atsumu’s presence with a greeting. From here, Kita hears the engine idling, a door slamming shut, and Atsumu’s cheerful quip in reply.

_So this is really happening._ Kita zips the bag and slings one of the straps over his shoulder. He takes his time lacing his sneakers over his feet, opting to listen to Atsumu make small talk with obaa-chan. When he finally rises to his feet and walks out the door, he almost chokes on his breath.

Atsumu is driving Osamu’s truck (although how he managed to convince his brother to let him borrow it, Kita has yet to know), and he leans against it now, arms crossed over his chest as he smiles down at obaa-chan. He wears a blue denim polo unbuttoned and draped over a fitted white shirt, a pair of low cut jeans, and black sneakers. It’s an outfit simple enough for the weather and charming enough for a first date, but it’s one that accentuates all of Atsumu’s best features.

Kita rubs the spot between his eyes, exhaling a sigh.

“There you are, Kita-san,” croons Atsumu when Kita finally looks at them again. Judging by his triumphant grin, he knows exactly what Kita is thinking. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting this time.”

Kita glances at his wrist watch as he crosses the front of their home. “You’re a little early, actually.”

Atsumu raises a brow. “Impressed?”

“Quite.”

Obaa-chan squeezes Atsumu’s arm, smiling up at him. “I’ll leave you to it. Have fun, both of you!” When she passes by Kita, he bends down to let her plant a kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll make sure to take good care of him, obaa-chan!” calls Atsumu with a wave as they watch her return back inside. Then he looks to Kita, eyes roving from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. “Handsome.”

Kita feels himself blush. “Thanks. You too.”

Atsumu’s grin widens. “Had to look my best for you.” He bounds away and leads them to the passenger seat, where he opens the door for Kita. “After you.”

Kita climbs into the passenger seat. Atsumu makes sure he’s sitting comfortably before closing the door and rounding to the driver’s seat. Kita feels an uneven lump against his thigh, and he takes out a pair of glasses just as Atsumu slides behind the wheel. “Whose is this?”

Atsumu plucks it from his grip. “Ah, Keiji-kun’s.” He tosses it to the backseat before buckling in and pulling out of the driveaway. “Osamu picked him up from Tokyo last night.”

Kita can’t help the smile that rises to his cheeks as he straps the seatbelt over his chest. “What is it with the Miya twins and going the extra mile?”

Atsumu’s hands turn the wheel, his head swiveling left and right to check for incoming traffic. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“You asked for this day off from your team,” reminds Kita. “I’m still surprised you took a break from training for this.”

Atsumu glances at him. “Anything for you, Kita-san.”

Kita stares at the road ahead of them. “You can call me Shinsuke.”

“Oh, wow. We’re already on that level, huh?” Kita can feel the weight of Atsumu’s triumph. “It took me longer the first time around.”

“You are still insufferable.”

“But you’ve always liked that about me.”

This time, Kita ducks his head as he blooms a shade of pink. As he wills his blush away, he hears Atsumu’s teasing tone beside him. “Aww, did I make you blush? Is it because I make you nervous?

Kita straightens and turns to him. “Yes.”

“Why are you nervous?” Atsumu is still teasing, but Kita has a reply ready. He almost considers keeping it to himself, but he is never one to hold back from the truth.

“Because I don’t know how this will end this time around.”

His answer placates Atsumu immediately. They drive in silence until they hit an intersection, where the light above glows red. As Atsumu pulls the breaks, he sighs and shifts his body towards Kita. “You know,” he starts, voice low and sincere, “I didn’t come here to hurt you again.”

Kita looks at him. Atsumu takes that as a sign to keep going and he continues, “And I didn’t come here expecting you to trust me on my word. It’s what this date is for.”

“To win my trust back?”

Atsumu’s hand twitches, almost as if he’s aching to hold Kita. “To win _you_ back.”

Before them, the light blinks green. Kita gestures towards it, and Atsumu continues driving. It’s only when they are speeding past the road again does Kita respond. “Please do your best.”

It is enough of his approval, and Atsumu knows it. Warmth spreads within Kita’s chest as Atsumu throws his head back and laughs.

✧

This time, Kita is no longer surprised.

He is only surprised that Atsumu managed to think of this himself.

But he says nothing as Atsumu parks the truck into an empty slot. He says nothing as they climb out and file into the mall, their chatter kept to a minimum as they scale the escalators. He says nothing as they walk side by side, towards the theater’s section of the building.

It is only when they stop before the rows of posters does Kita comment on it. “We have done this before.”

Atsumu is already looking at him. He looks pleased. “Yeah.”

“Why?” It’s not a malicious question, just one of pure curiosity.

Atsumu buries his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “You know how I’ve always said I liked our banner in Inarizaki?”

“‘We don’t need things like memories,’” Kita quotes with a grimace. He has never been a fan of that saying.

Atsumu nods. “I still think it’s a very wise philosophy.” He turns to the poster before them, one of a horror movie claiming to be the most terrifying as of date. “But memories were the only things I could hold on to that led me to you. Now that you’re here, I just want to do everything all over again–except I want to make it right this time.”

Kita hasn’t looked away from him. “Not everything you’ve done in the past was wrong.”

“In the end, everything was.”

When Atsumu finally glances at him, Kita answers, “Okay. I understand.”

Atsumu slumps and makes a face. He pretends to wipe sweat from the curve of his brow. “Oh, _thank the gods._ I was scared you’d find the idea cheesy.”

“It is.”

“Ah.”

Kita chuckles. It isn’t hard to remember why he liked Atsumu so much in the first place.

Not that he ever stopped.

“So what now?” challenges Kita. “Are we just going to stand here or are you going to make things right?”

Atsumu’s mood immediately lifts. “You choose the movie then. For real this time.”

Kita doesn’t hesitate as he points to the horror film. “This one.”

Atsumu raises his brows, leaning forward to appraise the film’s advertisement. “You sure? You don’t even find any of them scary.”

“But if we’re going to recreate our best memories, then we might as well do it as close to the past as possible.” Kita tilts his head. “Don’t you think so?”

Atsumu searches Kita’s face, his own expression softening. “You’ve always made it impossible to say no to you.”

Kita thinks he’s about to combust right then and there, so he turns away and urges both of them to the ticket booth. They purchase two seats for the next showing before purchasing drinks for themselves. When he catches Kita staring at his fruit shake, Atsumu smirks. “I may have skipped training, but I’m still required to keep a healthy diet.”

They head to the theater right after, the trailers already rolling by the time they settle in their seats. Atsumu gestures for Kita to walk down their row first, and when both of them have found their seats, Kita almost expects Atsumu to lift the armrest between them like he had done before.

But all Atsumu does is place his shake between them. Kita slides his own cup in the armrest to his left, internally berating himself. _You are here to be wooed. You are not here to throw yourself in his arms simply because he exists._

He doesn’t realize how tense he’s become until he forces himself to relax against the backrest. Atsumu notices and leans in towards his direction. “If you’re wondering whether I’m going to put my arms around you this time,” he whispers, “I’m not going to unless you want to.”

Kita is extremely thankful for the dimness of the cinema. He doesn’t think his pride can stand it if Atsumu can see how much he blushes every time.

_Get a hold of yourself, Kita Shinsuke._

Eventually, the movie starts and the low hum between the audience trickles into silence. Kita forgets all his earlier apprehension as he lapses into the simplicity of watching a film beside someone else. But ten minutes into the movie, he finds himself reaching for his drink only to knock against Atsumu’s hand.

Both of them flinch, their startled gazes finding one another. Kita looks down at where he had presumed his drink to be.

“Sorry,” he whispers, already reaching to his left instead. “I got used to placing my drink on that side.”

“It’s fine.” Atsumu takes his own cup, and they sip their drinks quietly, neither of them quite looking at the other.

Kita’s concentration is rattled after that. Even as he manages to train his attention to the movie for the most part, he is now hyperly aware of every shift and every move Atsumu makes. After a particular jump scare fails to even hold his attention, Kita blows out a deep breath and rests his elbow against either side of him.

Kita freezes when he bumps against Atsumu’s elbow, already resting against the divide between them. He attempts to move away, but Atsumu is already shaking his head. “We can share,” he mutters, scooting over a little to make space for Kita. “You don’t have to be so jittery around me.”

But how could he not? Kita once told his team that he sees the futility in being nervous during games. There is no reason to be uptight when you’re only recreating what you’ve done so many times before. But with this–there is nothing familiar about whatever _this_ is. While it isn’t the first time the two of them have gone on a movie date together, the last time they had was in an entirely different context.

Kita has every reason to be nervous.

But Atsumu’s words, teasing as they may be, coax Kita into a semblance of normalcy. He takes the space Atsumu gives him, his elbow resting right beside his, as they share the narrow armrest. When Kita finally relaxes, he hears Atsumu’s voice again. “See? This isn’t so bad.”

Kita attempts to return to the movie’s story by focusing on the scene before him, trying to immerse himself in the plot and in the characters. But he realizes how distracted he has been the whole time when he understands none of the dialogue, especially as the movie concludes its climax. He frowns, brows furrowing as he attempts to decipher the resolution of the story.

Something smooth and soft grazes the tip of Kita’s pinky, and he almost flinches at the sudden touch. Slowly, his gaze travels from the screen and down towards his exposed skin. He clenches his jaw when he finds Atsumu’s own pinky a hair’s breadth apart from his.

It is just his imagination then. What he felt was a trick of the wind. They aren’t even touching each other.

Kita stares straight ahead. He does not know whether he should be relieved or disappointed.

Barely a quarter of a minute passes before he feels the tickle against his hand again. This time, he does not look. He keeps his eyes trained to the movie, choosing instead to pay it no mind. But the tickle, previously feather light and soft, hardens into an insistent weight and into a tangible shape.

Kita feels the curve of Atsumu’s pinky stroking over his own, a question without words.

_Will you let me have this?_

Kita’s lips part as he releases a shaky breath. He moves his pinky closer to Atsumu’s almost indiscinerably, an answer without words.

_I will._

He hears Atsumu sigh as Kita gently intertwines his pinky with Atsumu’s. Their fingers curl, locking their touch in an inescapable embrace. It is a gesture so subtle, so miniscule, so insignificant in light of everything else they’ve been through.

But for now, it is all they have. And it is all Kita gives and takes.

Kita nudges his arm, bringing their hands closer together. But just as he is about to slide the whole of his hand beneath Atsumu’s, the movie’s volume rises in a musical crescendo. Kita blinks as he watches the scene fade to black and the credits begin to roll. He looks up with a squint, the lights coming to life overhead.

It’s over. It’s done. It’s time to go.

Kita is the first to pull away. He disentangles himself from Atsumu’s touch, cradling his hand as if his warmth burned. Then he rises to his feet and clears his throat. “The movie’s done.”

“I know.” Atsumu gathers their drinks in his hands quietly, and both of them file out of the theater without another word.

The two of them continue to live in their bubble of charged silence, the knowledge of what they’d done and what they almost did hanging heavy between them. It is only when they step onto the escalator does Kita look over his shoulder, up at Atsumu. The setter had always been the taller of the two of them, but he towers over him now as he stands a step higher. “Atsumu,” begins Kita.

Atsumu tilts his head. “Yeah?”

Kita waits for a few seconds. They disembark from the escalator, filing off to the side and out of the way of others. “You know if you asked me if I enjoyed the date,” he says, refusing to break eye contact as he studies Atsumu’s expression, “I’d answer you honestly.”

Atsumu makes a face, and the shift in his expression softens his features into mischief. “Oh, I know that all too well.”

“So ask me.”

Atsumu rests back against the railing of the second landing’s balcony, draping his arms over the metal poles. “Alright. Did you enjoy our date, Shinsuke?”

Kita looks down at his hand, the ghost of Atsumu’s touch haunting him. “Yes.”

“Thank god.” Atsumu considers the man before him. “If that’s the case, would you like to go on another date with me?”

Kita looks at Atsumu. He knows him– _still_ knows him–well enough to see the uncertainty behind his confident facade. He can sense his walls coming up, bracing for the possibility of Kita’s rejection.

“Kinda, yeah.” Kita brings his hands together before him, wishing it was Atsumu’s he was holding instead. “I kinda really do.”

“Kinda,” teases Atsumu, “or really? What’s it going to be?”

His response draws a laugh out of Kita. _I missed this,_ he thinks. “Now you’re just playing with me.”

It’s Atsumu who laughs this time, and Kita finds himself unraveling at the familiar sound. He looks at the blonde boy, searching for all of his imperfections, hoping that they can negate this swell of repressed emotions.

“Atsumu,” says Kita quietly, drawing his attention. “Ask me how much I like you.”

Recognition lights his brown eyes, emotions churning between longing and trepidation. “How much do you like me?” he asks anyway.

Instinctively, Kita reaches up to cup Atsumu’s cheek. The gesture surprises both of them, and Kita decides to spare them both.

He drops his hand.

“Enough to spend this day with you,” he confesses. “Enough to watch another horror movie by your side. Enough to agree on a second date and help you recreate the highlights of our past.”

“That’s quite a lot already.” Atsumu smiles sadly. In his eyes, he already knows what comes next.

Kita mirrors his bittersweet expression. “But not enough just yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll be updating this fic every god knows when, but i'll be dropping 2 chapters at a time starting from now on. c:
> 
> once again, many thanks to christine for always being my #1 cheerleader and my beta-reader!
> 
> special thanks to louise for yelling with me about all the snippets and wips i send her!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter or on curiouscat!
> 
> [@megfushiguro on twitter](http://twitter.com/megfushiguro) • [@stormhund on cc](http://curiouscat.qa/stormhund)


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